A Series of Unfortunate Events
by Clare Hope
Summary: Foggy isn't really used to having to take care of an injured best friend several times a week, but that's okay, because Matt isn't really used to being taken care of. (In which Matt gets hurt more often than is necessary or kind of me, poor cupcake. Foggy and Matt friendship-centric but appearances from other characters, too. Post series-one Netflix show canon.)
1. The Role of Best Friend

_Hello there! This is my first published fic for Daredevil. If you couldn't tell, this is basically just going to be a series full of hurt/comfort stories. Mostly longer than this first chapter, but it's kinda two parts. Anyway, Imma stop wasting your time here so you can read what you came for. Enjoy! Love to you all!_

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The first time that Foggy watched Claire stitch Matt up, he was too angry to be horrified. The second time, Matt's cuts weren't very extensive or deep and he was mostly unconscious, so Foggy just watched with a sort of curiosity, wincing and looking away occasionally. But the third time was different. Matt assured both Foggy and Claire that it wasn't really that bad, but Foggy knew him well enough to see the tension in his shoulders and the way his hands curled up into fists to know that he was in pain. Foggy didn't have to listen to his heartbeat to know that he was lying through his teeth when he said he was fine.

"It's fine," Matt said yet again as he strained to keep his entire body from jerking away from Claire's needle. The vigilante's hands, forearms, chest, and knees were covered in small, deep cuts from where he had fallen into a pile of broken glass and had thrown his hands in front of his face to protect it. Normally, this wouldn't have been a problem for him with his nearly impenetrable suit and mask, but the suit in question was currently being repaired where the red material over the thigh had torn, and he had reverted back to his plain black clothes for a few days despite promising Foggy that he wouldn't go back out on the streets until he had his armor back.

"It is not fine!" Foggy protested. "It is not. Look at yourself, Matt!" Matt twitched, irritated. Or maybe that was just in reaction to Claire making another stitch. Either way, Foggy apologized. "Sorry. You know what I mean."

"Yeah, I do. And I'm telling you, I'm fine. I've had worse." Foggy wondered if Matt knew that he could see when Matt opened his mouth to cry out silently after every pause in his speech.

"He has," Claire added conversationally. "Listen, Matt, most of these don't even really need stitches, just time and bandages. You good with that?"

Matt nodded and winced. "Of course," he said.

"Then I'm going home. Let me know if those open back up or start bleeding or get infected...you know the drill." Claire touched his hair affectionately. "I've got an early morning shift at the hospital tomorrow, so I really do need some sleep tonight."

"Of course," Matt repeated. "Goodnight, Claire. And thank you. As always."

"Anytime." Claire pulled herself up using the arm of the couch where Matt was sitting. "Make sure he takes care of himself," she told Foggy.

"I try," sighed the lawyer.

Claire smiled sympathetically. "Good luck." She clapped him on the shoulder as she left, the sound of the door closing reverberating in Matt's bare apartment.

Foggy glared at Matt for a second and was about to say something when Matt interrupted him. "You're angry at me."

"Well, yeah!" Foggy burst out. "I mean, Matt, it's bad enough when you go out there with your Devil clothes and all. At least then I know that no matter what kind of bruises and broken bones you get, you won't get cut open. But now you insist on going out there even without your armor-you're gonna get hurt!"

"I did," Matt pointed out.

"You're not helping your case here." Foggy took a deep breath. "And, I mean, falling on broken glass? That's...that's just unnecessarily awful."

"You're telling me." Matt shifted slightly and gasped with pain.

"And you won't even take any pain meds!" exclaimed Foggy.

"They mess with my senses," complained Matt.

"Well, you wouldn't need your super special senses if you just took a couple days off. I mean, you heard Claire. You need time and bandages-and we're wasting time arguing, you need to put those on," realized Foggy. "Did Claire leave any…?"

"In the cupboard. Left of the microwave, bottom shelf. Could you…" Matt left the request trailing off in the air as he realized that Foggy was already walking over to get them. "Thanks."

"I'm just saying, I wish you'd be more careful." Done with his tirade, Foggy handed the package of butterfly band aids to Matt, who paused awkwardly.

"Foggy...I...uh. I'd kinda appreciate some help with these," he requested hesitantly.

"What? Oh! Oh. Uh…" Foggy took the package back. "Um. How...do I…?"

"There should be a tube of Neosporin cream in that box, you put a tiny bit of that on the part of the band aid that is going to touch the cut," Matt explained.

"Will that sting?" Foggy asked, unsure if he even wanted to know the answer.

Matt laughed softly. "A bit, but only at first. It's supposed to help, actually. Not so much when you can feel every particle against the cut skin, but still, it keeps it clean."

"You can feel that? Sorry, stupid question." Then Foggy paused in the middle of opening one of the band aids as he realized something horrible. "Wait. Does that mean that all of these injuries and stitches and everything...you can feel it way more than the average person does? It hurts that much more?"

"I suppose," Matt said nonchalantly.

Foggy was stricken. "You suppose? Oh, my God, Matt."

"It's okay," Matt tried to reassure him. "Really. I've learned how to not feel it as much."

"Oh, yeah, that makes me feel lots better," muttered Foggy. He couldn't help hesitating as his hand hovered over one of the cuts on Matt's chest, holding the band aid.

"Foggy. Really. It's okay. Stop hesitating, I'm fine." Foggy could have sworn that Matt was almost smiling.

"I wasn't hesitating," he tried to protest, and put the band aid down, pressing the corners of the x-shaped bandage that were designed to pull the sides of a cut together. Foggy couldn't help noticing the slight tensing of Matt's hands, the slight wince. He hurried through the rest of his task anxiously, knowing that he should try to just get it over with.

Matt told him that he shouldn't try to put bandages on his hands, because it was just some scrapes anyway and he didn't want it to be noticeable tomorrow. "Besides, you seem more uncomfortable with this whole me being in pain thing than I am," he joked.

"Well, you're used to it. I'm not."

"And I'm not used to being taken care of," Matt said quietly. "So...thanks."

Taken aback, Foggy nodded. "I just nodded," he said immediately, out of habit. "Wait. No. You probably knew that."

"I could tell, but I wasn't really focusing, so, again, thanks." Matt sighed. "Sorry about making you come all the way out here in the middle of the night."

"Anytime," Foggy said quickly. "And I mean that, Matty."

"I think Claire just wanted someone to come and make sure I didn't go back out tonight," Matt speculated without acknowledging Foggy's statement.

"And she was right to call me. I'm being serious. Any time that you need me to come over here, I don't care if it's because you're bleeding out or you've stubbed your toe or had a nightmare or nothing at all, I will be here. Matt, if you can say that you're not used to being taken care of, that just means I've failed as my role as your best friend. Tell me you understand that."

Matt was quiet for a second. "I understand," he said eventually. "Thanks. Seriously. Now, it's really late. You should go home and get some sleep."

"Are you kidding?" Foggy scoffed. "I'm staying here."

"Foggy…"

"Yep. Come on, Murdock, you get to go to bed, and I will sleep on your couch." Not listening to Matt's protests, Foggy helped him up and led him to his bed. "I'm so tired, I couldn't care less about the stupid billboard. Also, if you don't have any decent breakfast food, which is probably the case, I'm going to get bagels in the morning. Well, it is the morning, it's like two in the morning."

"Foggy, you-"

"I'm staying." Foggy's tone left no room for negotiations. "Now lie down and get some sleep, Matt. I don't care if I have to stay every day for a week, you are not going back out there until you are recovered and well rested and have your armor back. No, don't even try to argue with me. Lie down."

Defeated, Matt sank down onto the bed. He let out a quiet laugh as Foggy pulled the blankets up over him. "Are you seriously tucking me in?" he asked.

"I have failed in my best friend duties!" Foggy reiterated dramatically. "You are never going to be able to say that you're not used to being taken care of again."

"It's no big-"

"Shh. Go to sleep."

"Okay," Matt gave in. "Good night, Foggy."

"Good night, Matt." There was no light for Foggy to turn off, so he just left the room softly and, finding an extra set of sheets in a cupboard, settled down on the couch. He remained comfortably half-awake, half-asleep for a while, his mind wandering in almost-dreams until morning.

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 _Tell me what you thought? Reviews are the best, and I need all the encouragement I can get since I'm actually kinda nervous about posting this. I'm putting both the first and second chapters up tonight because it's kind of a two-parter. Hope you enjoyed! Many thanks and much love! ~Clare_


	2. Broken Promises, Broken Ribs

Foggy did not stay there the whole week, as it was. He really would have if Matt had asked him to, but Matt had specifically told him to go home and get some rest himself.

"Only if you promise me that you won't go out on the streets tonight," Foggy had bargained.

"I promise."

So Foggy had gone home and gone to sleep. He woke up several hours later to his phone ringing. "For the love of…" he muttered. He fumbled for his phone, the bright light of the screen making him squint. "Matt?" he answered quickly.

"Hi, Foggy." There was a lot to read in that voice. Matt sounded tired, contrite, sheepish, and guilty. Very guilty.

Foggy groaned. "Tell me you didn't go out there and get yourself hurt. Please."

"I'm sorry!"

"Right." Foggy stood up and started getting dressed, the phone sandwiched between his shoulder and his ear. "I am very, very angry at you, but that's gonna have to wait because right now I'm just worried. Are you okay?"

"Kind of?" Matt offered.

"Okay, _where_ are you?"

Matt seemed relieved at the question that he could actually provide an answer to. "I'm less than a block away from my apartment."

Suddenly, Foggy was very worried. "Why couldn't you get all the way there?"

"I just hurt my ankle, that's all," Matt said. "Well. And I may have a few broken ribs. And my face is bleeding, but not badly."

"I'm calling Claire," Foggy said quickly.

"No!" Matt protested. "Please don't. She would _not_ be happy."

"Well, neither am I!" Foggy cried.

"Yeah, but I'm actually kind of scared of her," admitted Matt.

Foggy snorted. "Okay, Matt, I won't call her then. But you know that I'm angry, too."

"Yes, I know."

"And I am also scary."

"Of course you are." Matt was definitely only saying that to humor him, but Foggy didn't really care.

"Okay, so where _exactly_ are you?" he pressed.

"In an alley-"

"Of course you are-"

"Oh, shut up," Matt griped. "Less than a block east of my apartment. Like…" He paused, concentrating. "Four buildings east," he finished.

"Okay. I'm coming. Should I bring anything?" asked Foggy.

"No thanks." Matt let out a long breath. "See you in a few minutes?"

"I'll be right there."

"Thanks." Matt hung up.

Foggy got to Matt's apartment building as quickly as he could. "East," he muttered. "East...four buildings." Pulling his coat around him more tightly, he started walking east. "One...two...three…" His phone rang. "Hi, Matt, I'm almost there."

"I...made a mistake and tried to move," Matt groaned. Pain was laced through his every word.

"Are you okay?" Foggy asked. He started walking faster.

"No, I'm passing out." Matt's breathing was labored. "Just so you know."

"You're going to have to go to the hospital," Foggy informed him.

"No. Please, no. I'll be fine."

"Shut up and stay awake. I'm almost there."

"Foggy…" Matt fell silent.

"Matt? Damn it," cursed Foggy. He shoved his phone back into his pocket and started running. "Four." The alleyway was dark and cluttered with debris. "Matt?" he called tentatively.

"Hey…" came a soft murmur from the back of the alley. Matt was lying on his side, hidden behind a pile of metal poles. There was a cut across his cheek, spilling blood down the side of his face, and as Foggy took a closer look, he could see that Matt's ankle was very swollen.

"Oh, Matt…"

"I'm fine," Matt said automatically.

"You're really not." Foggy knelt down next to him. "Come on, let's get you home."

"I can't stand up, I tried," Matt said.

"You should have waited for me to get here."

"No, before I told you I was here. I didn't want to tell you," admitted Matt.

"That was stupid."

Matt grimaced. "I know."

"Well, as long as you know that. I'm saving my lecture until you're not lying half conscious in an alley." Foggy took Matt's hands and tried to help him to his feet.

"That's nice of you." Matt tried to sit up, but let out a cry and fell back down.

Foggy carefully tugged Matt's arm around his shoulders. "Ribs actually broken?"

"Bruised, mainly. One of them is fractured, I can hear it grating."

Foggy winced. "That's creepy, dude."

"Thanks."

Foggy managed to get Matt standing up, although he was leaning heavily on Foggy and couldn't put any weight on his left foot. "Oh, wow, Matt, you're heavy. How are you this heavy? You eat like a bird."

"Sorry," Matt grunted. "Luckily we only have to go a few buildings over."

"And hope we don't get stopped by the police."

"At least they wouldn't recognize me not as Daredevil." Matt gasped softly as he tried to step with his left foot.

"Don't do that," scolded Foggy. "I've got you. It's not much farther. Keep walking."

"I'm trying." Matt tightened his arm around Foggy's shoulder.

"I have been doing research," Foggy said conversationally. They had made their way down two buildings.

"Oh, yeah? What kind of research?"

"I know how to wrap a sprained ankle or wrist, and how to stitch something up. Though I think I'll leave that to Claire for now." Foggy paused. "And I know when you need to take someone to a hospital," he added gently.

"No." Matt pulled away and almost toppled over.

"Don't _do_ that! Geez, Matt. I've got you."

"Foggy, I am not going to the hospital," Matt insisted. His voice trembled.

"We'll figure it out, okay?"

"I've been way worse and not gone."

Foggy frowned. "You do realize that does not make me feel any better, right?"

Matt managed to laugh, then coughed painfully. A tiny bead of blood appeared on his lower lip.

"Whoa, okay. Like I said, hospital," Foggy repeated. "We can get you out of the black clothes first, but…"

"No." They were at the base of Matt's apartment building and Matt pulled away from Foggy, collapsing against the side of the building.

"Matt!"

"I'm not going to the hospital. I'm not going to the hospital," repeated Matt. There was a catch in his voice, nearly a sob. "Please don't take me to the hospital."

Foggy was shocked. "Whoa, Matt, what's wrong? Hey, come here, let's get up into your apartment and we can talk about this." He went over to Matt and put his hand on his shoulder. "Come on, buddy. We've just got the murder stairs and then you can sit down. Come on."

Matt wearily stumbled to his feet. Well, foot. He still didn't put any weight on his left ankle.

"That's it," said Foggy encouragingly. They made it up the steps and into Matt's apartment. "Here, sit down." Matt crumpled onto the couch. "I'll get some ice for your ankle."

Matt said nothing. His head was tilted to face the ceiling, as if the force of gravity could keep away the tears that kept threatening to well up in his eyes. Foggy observed this but stayed quiet as he got an ice pack, wrapped it in a thin towel, and brought it over to Matt. Then he sat down on the couch next to his injured friend.

"Why won't you go to the hospital?" Foggy asked gently. "Listen, I get that you don't want Claire to know that you went out tonight, but you wouldn't have to see her."

"It's not that," Matt muttered.

"Then what is it, buddy? Because I'm lost." Foggy leaned back, ready for Matt to ignore him or try to change the subject, but to his surprise, Matt actually started talking.

"I don't like hospitals. Everything about them. The smell makes my head hurt. It's full of the sounds of people in pain, dying, monitors beeping and flatlining. I can't concentrate on any one thing, can barely figure out where I am. And the sheets and the clothing are so rough that they're painful. I just hate it." Matt's hand started trembling.

"There's something else, isn't there?" queried Foggy. He knew Matt well enough to see when he wanted to say something but didn't know how.

Matt let out a shaky breath. "Yeah. If I wake up in a hospital...all of the sounds and smells and the medicine making it impossible for me to focus...it reminds me of…" He stopped talking abruptly. "The blood I coughed out earlier was from a cut inside my mouth," he said suddenly. "If you thought that it was my ribs stabbing my organs, it wasn't."

Foggy sighed. "That's good, Matt. Please finish your sentence." There were more tears in Matt's eyes now, threatening to fall any second. Foggy shifted so he was sitting a bit closer and put his hand on Matt's shoulder.

"It reminds me of when I woke up after I got blinded," Matt answered eventually. "And I didn't know where I was and I couldn't see and it hurt and I…" He put his head in his hands and hunched over, curling in on himself.

"That's why you were so unhappy when you got sick that one time in school and had to go to the hospital," Foggy realized slowly.

"Yeah. Probably." Matt was shivering like he was cold. "So…"

"Okay. You don't have to go to the hospital. But if you do, someday...how will I be able to help?"

"It won't hap-"

"Yeah, it will," sighed Foggy. "And you know what? Let's fall off that bridge when we get there."

"I'm pretty sure that's not the saying."

"You sure?" Foggy teased.

"Uh...let's see. Yep. Positive."

"Well, if you're sure. Can you do anything for your rib?"

Matt shook his head. "No. Just rest. It's not out of place, wrapping it won't do any good. There's just a tiny fracture right...here." He tapped a point on his right side.

"How long will it be until what's-his-name is finished fixing the suit?" asked Foggy.

"Another couple of days."

"Good. I would ask you to promise that you won't go out until then, but…" A little bit of bitterness stole into Foggy's voice. "But you would probably just lie to me again."

Matt grimaced. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.

Foggy softened. "Apology accepted. But, Matt? I'm actually staying the rest of the week. And I might not have super power hearing, but I will know if you leave this apartment to go and beat up the bad guys."

Matt shifted uncomfortably. "Fine," he said eventually.

"Your ankle is too swollen to wrap right now. Keep the ice on it tonight and we'll deal with it tomorrow morning."

"Yes, Doctor Nelson," muttered Matt. "Also, it's my turn to take the couch."

"It's your house."

"Yeah, but walking to the bed sounds like not the best option right now. You take it." Matt sighed softly and tilted his head back, relaxing a little.

Foggy stood up. "Okay. I'll bring you your sheets and some pajamas. I know the couch is a bit rough. Don't you freeze with just silk sheets when it's cold?" he added curiously as he walked over to the bedroom door.

"It gets a bit cold sometimes, but it's fine. I don't like quilts or cotton comforters," Matt informed him.

"What about fleece?"

"I have yet to find a blanket soft enough that I actually like it."

"Right." Foggy plopped the pile of sheets down onto Matt's lap and put the pajamas on top. "I'm going to find you the softest, warmest fleece blanket in the world for Christmas. Now, goodnight."

"Goodnight, Foggy. You really don't have to do that."

"No, I want to," Foggy contradicted. "Best friend, remember? Taking care of you? It's my job. Go to sleep."

"Your job is as an attorney for Nelson and Murdock."

"No, that's my profession." Foggy shook his head. "Just go to sleep, Matty."

"Okay. Fine." Matt closed his eyes. Foggy watched him for a second. He wondered if the world on fire seemed any different to Matt with his eyes closed than open, then decided that was a question for another day and went to bed.

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 _I hope you enjoyed! Once again, reviews are my lifeblood, honestly. Many thanks and much love! ~Clare_


	3. A Two (Or Three) Step Process

_Another chapter slightly early, just because I can. Also, feel free to send requests if there's anything you'd like to see!_

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In the darkness of early, early morning, a phone was ringing. Foggy reached for it, yawning tiredly. He was slightly irritated, but then he saw who was calling.

"Matt? Are you okay? What happened?" he demanded.

"No, it's not Matt," a woman's voice answered. "It's Claire."

Foggy's heart was pounding. "Claire, what happened to him?" he asked, getting out of bed and pressing the phone between his ear and his shoulder while he found some clothes. "Is he okay?"

"Not particularly," Claire told him. "He's pretty beat up, like usual, but he's also been lying out in the snow, and I think he's been drugged with something. I hated to wake you up, but I need help and you're the only other one who knows about him."

Foggy was pretty sure he had put his shirt on backwards in his haste, but he didn't care and put his jacket on over it anyway. "Where?"

"My apartment."

Foggy wrote down the address on his palm with a pen as Claire dictated it. "I'll be there as soon as I can," he promised. "What...how is he? What's happening?"

Claire sighed, her breath crackling over the speakers. "He's just...not good. If I'm right about the drug, it's one that heightens senses and sensation, which…"

"He does not need more of," Foggy finished.

"Exactly. Hurry, please, he's bleeding badly but he won't let me get anywhere near him to help, and I don't want to end up getting knocked out while he's panicking." Claire ended the phone call before Foggy could have the chance to reply.

When Foggy got to Claire's apartment, he knocked on the door rapidly. It opened almost immediately, revealing Claire standing behind it, looking exhausted and had blood smeared on her gloves. "Hi," she greeted. "Be quiet, he just passed out, thank God."

"That's a good thing?" asked Foggy, stepping inside.

"Right now, yes. Over here." Claire led him into her living room, where Matt lay limp on the couch. Foggy let out a gasp at the sight of him, bloody and bruised to the point where he was barely recognizable. Claire must have managed to get him out of his Daredevil suit, and Matt must have left some clothing at her apartment for this sort of occasion, because he was wearing a pair of sweatpants. His torso, littered with old scars and new bruises and cuts, was bare.

"Oh my God." Foggy rushed over to him. "Matt!"

"Shhh," Claire urged. "Please don't wake-"

"Foggy…?" murmured Matt, stirring slightly and then letting out a groan.

"And you woke him up," Claire said sarcastically. "Great, thanks."

"What...what happened?" Matt asked. Then he cried out and clutched his head in his hands. "Oww!"

"Whoa, Matt, shh." Foggy rested his hands on Matt's shoulder, trying to hold him down and not let him fall off the couch, but Matt had other ideas. He cried out, pulling away from Foggy's touch and shoving his friend away. "Matt!"

"It hurts!" whimpered Matt. "Everything...it's too much, it's so loud!"

"Claire?" Foggy exclaimed, glancing back at the nurse helplessly.

"See?" Claire replied. "Not good."

Matt had grown still again. Miraculously, he hadn't fallen off the couch, and lay breathing shallowly, his eyes brimming with tears of pain. He looked as if he had practically given up.

"Matt," Foggy said cautiously. The injured man winced at the sound of his voice. "Sorry," added Foggy in a soft whisper. To Claire, he said, "Do you still need to stitch him up at all?"

"Yeah, I haven't been able to get anything done, because he keeps fighting me!" Claire snapped, directing the last part of the sentence towards Matt. She still kept her voice quiet, though, and her tone softened as she added, "That's why I called you."

"What can _I_ do?" Foggy wondered.

"Just...keep him still." Claire picked up a suture kit from the coffee table and knelt down next to the couch. Matt seemed unaware, as if he was focusing on something else that Claire and Foggy couldn't hear. He probably was.

Trying not to panic, Foggy placed his hand on Matt's forehead. "Matt?"

It took a second for Matt to respond. "Yeah?" he said slowly. Foggy realized that he was trying very, very hard not to freak out.

"Hey. You with me?"

"...Kind of."

"Claire says that you were drugged with something that heightens senses. How did that happen?" Foggy glanced at Claire, who nodded approvingly.

Matt's breathing, which he had only just gotten under control, began to quicken again. "I...I was chasing someone...drug distributor...had a fight...he...knife, got through the red...got his drug into my...my bloodstream." Matt coughed suddenly. "It was so cold." He started shivering violently under Foggy's hand, turning his head to the side quickly.

"A knife got through your suit?" said Foggy, surprised.

"Yes. The...the red isn't as strong as the black," muttered Matt. "It...I'm bleeding, right?"

"Yeah, quite a bit, buddy. Claire needs to stitch you up," Foggy hinted. "Can-"

"I can smell it, the blood, it…" Matt sort of gagged. "It's horrible, Foggy."

Foggy winced. "Oh." There was a pause. "Matty, can you handle stitches right now?"

"Yes. No. I don't know."

"Well, at least you're being honest," Claire muttered.

"I...I can feel every drop of blood on my skin," Matt informed them. "Every ridge of Foggy's fingerprints on my forehead. It just...it's…"

"Overwhelming?" provided Foggy.

"Exactly. But...go ahead. Stitches. I...I won't lash out again, I think. But d-don't…" His voice faltered, broke. He tried again. "Foggy, keep…don't…"

"Got it." Foggy ran his fingers lightly over Matt's forehead. "Got you, buddy."

Claire began threading the needle. Matt flinched visibly. Foggy was pretty sure that he could hear it. "Alright, Matt, we're gonna start…" Claire brushed her finger against one of the longest cuts on Matt's chest. "There."

Matt stifled a yelp. He clenched his hand in a fist before Foggy took it with the hand that wasn't resting on Matt's forehead. "Please don't break my fingers," Foggy teased lightly, "but here."

"Can't promise anything," Matt mumbled, but he wrapped his hand around Foggy's anyway.

"I'm gonna do it as quickly and with as few stitches as possible," Claire informed him. "Alright." The needle pierced Matt's skin, and while he did not lash out, as he had promised, he did let out a cry of pain and tightened his grip on Foggy's hand. "That's one," Claire said encouragingly.

Matt was trembling. "Okay," he managed. "Okay-ahh!"

"Shh," Foggy found himself saying. "Shh, Matt, it's alright."

"No, it's not! It's-ahh! Owwwww…" Matt whimpered.

"I'd give you something for the pain, Matt, but it wouldn't be safe since I don't know what the drug is. I might accidentally give you something that could hurt you," Claire apologized. "There, I finished that cut."

"How…how many more?" Matt asked cautiously.

"Wait a second, we'll get there." Claire turned and took a tube of something from off the coffee table. Foggy looked at it curiously. "It's a gel that'll help it not get infected, and it's got a numbing agent. Could help with the pain without taking anything internally."

"Okay," Matt acknowledged. Claire put some of the gel onto the neatly stitched wound. Matt winced, but then he sighed. "That does help," he admitted. As soon as Claire began stitching up another cut, however, he gave a cry that was more like a scream and his hand went limp in Foggy's as he passed out.

"Don't say a word," Claire cautioned quietly. "This is a good thing."

Foggy nodded. He didn't let go of Matt's hand, though, didn't stop touching his forehead. Claire could work a lot faster now. It took about twenty minutes. Matt stayed unconscious the entire time, to both of his friends' relief. "What now?" Foggy asked softly.

"We let him sleep." Claire snapped her gloves off with practiced ease and stood up. "Do you want to stay with him?"

"Is that alright?" Foggy asked.

"Sure." Claire yawned. "I need to go to sleep. The drug should be out of his system tomorrow-I don't think he got very much in him, anyway, but it didn't take much. He didn't get hypothermia, thank God, but he was pretty cold, so I'll get a blanket for him."

"Something soft," Foggy broke in. "Cotton apparently feels like sandpaper to him."

"Yeah, I know," Claire called.

"Of course you do," muttered Foggy.

Claire brought out a thick, soft fleece blanket. "Here." She tucked it around Matt and then handed another blanket to Foggy. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight." Foggy sat on the ground with his back to the couch, nestling under the blanket and closing his eyes as Claire turned off the lights. He could hear Matt breathing shallowly behind him, and let himself fall asleep with the knowledge that his friend was still alive.

A strangled gasp woke him up. The early morning moon in the still dark sky shone in through Claire's window as Foggy tiredly turned to Matt. The man was tense and shivering, a tear leaking from the corner of one of his closed eyes.

"Matty," mumbled Foggy. "Matt. Wake up. 's just a nightmare." He pushed himself up so he was kneeling next to the couch instead of lying on the floor, and patted Matt's cheek softly in an effort to wake him. "Matt!"

Matt gasped sharply and sat up abruptly. He was visibly trembling as he swung his feet over the edge of the couch to sit up normally, the fleece blanket falling away from him. He was breathing too quickly. Foggy hopped up onto the couch next to him. "Foggy?"

"Hey, buddy, you okay?" Foggy took the blanket and pulled it back around Matt's shoulders. "Matt? Talk to me."

"What...happened?" Matt clutched the blanket gratefully. "I can't quite...remember it. Are we at Claire's place?"

"Yeah, you got hurt pretty bad last night and ended up here. Apparently, you were drugged with something that messed with your senses. Claire called me to ask if I could come and help because you were kind of...fighting her when she tried to fix you up," Foggy explained.

Matt groaned and lowered his head. "I didn't mean to," he said softly. He pressed his face into his hands.

"Hey, she knows that. You were in a lot of pain, she doesn't blame you."

"Did I hurt her?" Matt asked, dread clouding his voice. "I swear I didn't mean to, I'm sorry. I'm sorry." To Foggy's surprise, his shoulders shook with a sob.

"She's fine, hey, Matt!" Foggy said, putting his hand on Matt's back. The blanket wrapped around him was thick, but Foggy felt Matt shake with another sob through the soft material. "Hey. You didn't do anything wrong. It's okay. What's wrong? Matt. Tell me what's wrong."

"I'm sorry," repeated Matt. "I didn't want...I didn't mean…" He didn't seem to be able to stop crying, so Foggy wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close.

"Matt, you didn't do anything wrong. It's okay. You're fine. Claire's fine. Everything is fine."

"Nothing's fine," countered Matt. He allowed Foggy to hug him but didn't lean into it. "Nothing's fine, Foggy. I can...there are people screaming for help a few blocks that way. Someone is dying over there, getting beaten over there. And I get one little bit of a drug in my system and suddenly I'm useless. And hurting my best friends."

"Hey," Foggy said, concerned. "You're not useless."

"But I can't help them!" cried Matt, pulling away suddenly.

Foggy didn't try to hug him again, just kept a hand on his shoulder as he thought quickly. "Am I useless?" he inquired.

"What?! Of course not!" Matt sounded outraged, scandalized, offended that Foggy would even suggest such a thing.

"I can't be out there saving those people. Does that make me useless?" he pressed.

"No. Of course it doesn't."

Foggy waited for a second to let that sink in. "So why does it for you?" he finished softly.

"I…"

"You're just as good with the law as I am-better, really. You're blind but that doesn't mean you can't get around. You're a useful member of society. Even if you weren't Daredevil, you would be. You do more than me to help this city, even without the whole hero thing. So if you wanna say that you're useless when you can't be out in the Mask beating up the bad guys, go ahead. Just remember that by default, you are calling me that as well," Foggy finished, triumphant. Then... _Oh, shit,_ thought Foggy. Matt had begun crying again. _Now he feels bad because he thinks that I think that he thinks that I'm useless._ "Matt, listen," he added hastily, "I'm not saying that you actually mean that. I'm not hurt or offended or anything. I'm just worried about you, that's all, and I thought thinking about it that way might help. I...well, I screwed that one up, buddy. I'm sorry."

"No, _I'm_ sorry-"

"There's no reason for you to be," interrupted Foggy. "You. Did. Nothing. Wrong. Nothing. Nada. I find you not guilty, Matthew Murdock, of any of the crimes you have been accused of committing by yourself. Verdict reached. There will be no appeal." Foggy looked at Matt hopefully, wanting that too have been enough to convince him. But Matt's eyes were welling over with tears that spilled down his cheeks, across the bruises and abrasions littering his skin, letting Foggy know that he still felt terrible.

"Foggy, I…" said Matt brokenly. "I swear I didn't mean to."

Foggy adopted another tactic. "I know you didn't," he said gently.

"I'm sorry."

"I forgive you."

Matt sighed and lowered his head. His breathing slowed. After a second, he said, "How do you do that?"

"Do what?" Foggy asked honestly.

Matt waved his hand abstractly, gesturing vaguely towards himself. "Whatever you just did. You always...somehow you always just know exactly what to say."

Foggy allowed himself a moment of pride, a slight smile. "Comforting someone is a two step process that can only be perfected with practice. And you, Matt, have given me a lot of practice."

"Sorry," Matt said automatically.

"It's fine. You wanna know the two steps?" offered Foggy.

"Sure."

"Step one: listen to them. Step two: make them listen to themself."

"And does that work?"

"Clearly it does. There's also an optional third step, which can be inserted before or after either of the others, as many times as you want."

To Foggy's delight, Matt seemed almost amused by this discussion. "And what would that be?" he wondered.

"A hug. Want me to demonstrate?"

Matt didn't answer verbally, but he did lean over onto Foggy's shoulder with a soft sigh, which basically amounted to a yes.

"There we go." Foggy pulled him into a gentle hug. "You're alright. You're okay. I've got you. You're not useless, you're my best friend. That makes you inherently the most important and un-useless person in the world."

"Thanks," Matt mumbled. "Thank you." This time, he did not pull away after a couple seconds. Instead, he kind of curled up so that he was leaning against Foggy with his head resting on the other man's shoulder, and Foggy did not move an inch in case Matt might think that he was uncomfortable and sit up.

"No problem," answered Foggy. "Now, it's nowhere near time to get up, and we don't want to wake Claire. Do you think you can get back to sleep?" Matt started to sit up. "No, you can stay there," Foggy said quickly. Matt froze, then relaxed.

"I think I could sleep." Matt yawned. "Yeah. Definitely."

"Good, cause I need some sleep too. Now shush. Goodnight, Matty."

"Night, Foggy."

* * *

 _I wasn't too sure about this chapter initially, but then I realized that I really, really liked the dialogue in the second half so I did a whole bunch of editing until I was happy with it. Also, I'm freaking out about the new season! No matter what happens, it's not gonna change the seven other chapters I have written for this story, but it'll certainly have an effect on future installments. Thank you so much for reading, and as always, reviews are the best! And I will totally take requests if there's anything you guys want to see, but I can't promise that I'll stick to a prompt once I start writing. Sometimes it just kinda goes off wherever it wants to, despite my original intentions for a chapter. Many thanks and much love! ~Clare_


	4. Drowning and Falling

It was almost Christmas, and it was very, very cold in Hell's Kitchen. The Daredevil, as he was known to the citizens of the city, seemed to have retreated from the streets because of the cold. This was partially true, but the real reason that the vigilante in question wasn't as active lately was because he was stuck in his bed with the flu, being hovered over anxiously by his best friend.

"You should not have been out in the cold the other night," chastised Foggy. "That was very stupid."

"I didn't intend to get knocked out and to lie in the snow for several hours," retorted Matt. Then he began coughing.

Foggy sighed. "I'll go make you some more tea." He headed off towards the kitchen.

Matt groaned weakly. "I've had five cups in the past two hours. Lighten up."

"Fine, soup, then!" Foggy called. The scent of the chicken noodle soup that Karen had brought over the day before filled the air.

"I'm not hungry." Matt felt slightly nauseous at the thought of food. Foggy walked back into his room and put his hand on Matt's forehead.

"You still have a fever," Foggy announced.

"I could have told you that." Matt's head was spinning slightly and his skin was hot and dry, but he was shivering. "Just let me sleep. I need to be able to go out again tomorrow night. I've already missed two."

"Unless you have a miraculous recovery, that isn't going to happen," Foggy informed him. "Claire says that it's been taking flu patients almost two weeks to fully recover, and that's in the hospital. She says that you're only going to get worse for right now and that I was supposed to do anything I had to do to keep you in bed."

"Ugh." Matt coughed. He could hear his breaths rasping through his throat and lungs. It sounded very strange and quite gross. He focused on it curiously, changing how he was breathing slightly to make it sound different.

"...att. Matt. Hello? Buddy." Foggy's concerned voice broke through Matt's thoughts. "Earth to Matthew."

"Sorry, I was just…" Matt's voice trailed off. Now there was a buzzing sound in his ears. He couldn't locate the source, and after a few seconds he came to the conclusion that the sound was coming from inside his own head. "I think there's a bee in my head," he said eventually.

Foggy snorted in amusement. "Of course there is. Alright, maybe you should go to sleep."

"'s what I told you," Matt grumbled. "It's cold in here."

"No, it's not."

"It is."

"Dude, the thermostat is set to 80 degrees."

"Fahrenheit or Celsius?" That was a perfectly reasonable question, wasn't it? So why did Foggy laugh?

"Stop talking, Matt," he said affectionately.

"Why?"

"Because you need to stop talking and go to sleep."

"Isn't it…" Matt tried to remember what time it was. Suddenly, sleep seemed utterly unreasonable. "Isn't it daytime?"

"Doesn't matter." Foggy let out a short huff of air and then Matt felt a weight settle down at the foot of his bed as Foggy sat. "If you want to get better and not have to go to the hospital, you need to sleep."

Matt winced. "Okay," he conceded, and tried to fall asleep. "I'm not tired," he remarked a few seconds later.

"Yes, you are," Foggy told him patiently.

"If you say so," yawned Matt. Then, he promptly fell asleep.

"I told you so," muttered Foggy, and tiptoed out of the room to let Matt sleep.

In Matt's dreams, the world wasn't on fire this time. It was coated in ice. Every time he tried to take a step, his feet would slip out from underneath him and when he tried to catch himself on things he was sure were right next to him, they would disappear and let him fall. It was freezing cold, too, and he didn't know where he was. Maybe he was underwater. After all, he couldn't breathe. That usually happened underwater, didn't it? Matt tried to swim up towards the air but he couldn't even tell which way was up and which was down. He reached for something, anything, to pull himself up and caught hold of something. Suddenly, the world tilted alarmingly and he could breathe again. Air rushed into his lungs, relieving the burning pain there, but it wasn't enough.

"You're okay," someone was telling him.

"I can't breathe."

"Yes, you can, you're breathing right now, Matt. You've sat up and now you can breathe." Who was that? Matt tried to think clearly but it was as if someone had their hands around his head, squeezing and stuffing his brain full of cotton balls, which was very distracting.

"Foggy," he said at last.

"Yeah?"

"Why...why was I underwater?"

Foggy sighed. "You weren't, Matt. You're in your bedroom with the flu, and I really should take you to the hospital-but I'm not going to do that," he said quickly as Matt began to protest. "Okay? I'm not going to. It's okay."

Just then, Matt began coughing. He would have answered Foggy but right then he was more concerned with the fact that every cough hurt his throat and stomach and he could barely get a breath in between them.

"Easy, easy. It's okay. C'mon, Matt. Breathe."

"I'm-trying-" Matt sputtered. A hand settled on his back, rubbing circles soothingly. After a few seconds, Matt's coughing fit died down. Foggy's hand stayed on his back, but he handed Matt a glass of water with the other one. "Thanks," Matt rasped. The cold liquid felt wonderful on his throat. "Are we...missing much work?"

"Karen knows that you're sick and that I'm staying here for right now. She might drop by later but she's keeping the office for us so it won't be until tonight." Foggy watched Matt anxiously in case he started coughing again, ready to catch the glass if it should drop. "And Claire is busy with plenty of other flu patients who have the common sense to seek medical help. She's bringing some medicine later, though, when she gets off work."

"I don't-"

"I don't care if you don't want to take it. You're taking it," Foggy said firmly.

Matt groaned pitifully and flopped backwards onto his pillow. "I don't like that kind of medicine. It makes my head...fuzzy," he finished anticlimactically, unable to think of a better word.

Foggy rolled his eyes. It was almost audible. "Matt, your head is already fuzzy. And sit up, I'm going to get you a couple more pillows so you're not lying down. That makes it harder to breathe."

Matt felt like he should have been protesting, but he didn't have the energy. "Okay," he said weakly, but didn't sit up. Foggy sighed and lifted Matt's shoulders himself, putting a few extra pillows underneath him. Matt had to admit, it did make it easier to breathe. He could feel himself starting to drift off again, but a hand pressed to his forehead startled him awake and he let out a soft whimper of protest.

"Geez, dude, you are burning up," Foggy said. "Wow. You got a thermometer?"

"Probably." Matt couldn't really remember.

"I'll be right back." Foggy stood up. Matt almost asked him to stay, but that would have seemed needy and childish. He didn't need Foggy to stay. He was fine on his own for a minute. Or, that's what he told himself. "I found one," Foggy called triumphantly and marched back into Matt's room. "Let's see if it still works-yep. Open your mouth." Matt did so, wincing as the metal end of the thermometer jabbed the underside of his tongue.

"One hundred and two point six degrees," the metallic voice of the device chirped. Foggy was so startled he almost dropped it.

"Whoa."

Matt even managed to smile. "Blind guy, remember? All my stuff does that."

"Huh. Cool. Wait, no, not cool, really, really hot. Matt, that's really hot. That's bad," Foggy stumbled.

"Not bad 'til it's a hundred and three," Matt murmured. "I'm going back to sleep."

"You don't think you can eat anything?"

Matt's stomach rolled at the thought. Apparently, the expression on his face was enough of an answer, because he didn't say anything and Foggy didn't press.

"Okay," Foggy sighed. "Go back to sleep."

"You should go to work," Matt mumbled. He was fine without Foggy. Wasn't he?

"Sure, as soon as you can put together a coherent sentence and your temperature is below ninety nine," Foggy said. "And by that time, you're coming to work with me. You can go to sleep, Matt."

"Okay." Matt realized that his eyes were already closed. He hadn't noticed closing them. He tried to take a deep breath and ended up coughing again, but that only lasted a few seconds. He was nodding off, but suddenly had the distinct, frightening sensation that he was falling and gasped, sitting up sharply.

"Matt? Are you okay?" Foggy asked worriedly. "What happened?"

Matt's heart was beating far too quickly. "I just...was I falling?" he managed.

Foggy's hands were on his shoulder suddenly and he carefully made his friend lay back down. "No, you weren't falling. You're okay, Matt, calm down." Matt relaxed slightly. "There we go."

The moment of terror had passed, and Matt was falling back into a slumber. _Please don't leave_ , he thought to himself.

Foggy startled. "I won't," he said softly after a second, and Matt had just enough time to realize that he had spoken aloud before he passed out again.

Matt drifted in and out of wakefulness. He wasn't sure if he was just asleep or if this qualified as unconsciousness. Whatever it was, it was unpleasant. His sleep was filled with dark dreams and fears, and the few moments he was lucid were filled with coughing and a struggle to breathe. He caught a few snatches of conversation a couple of times.

"Thanks for bringing this, Claire. I'm kinda worried."

"He'll be fine. Stay with him, though."

"Wouldn't dream of leaving." Then Matt was plunged into another bout of nightmares and a few wonderful moments of rest.

The next time he was partially aware of his surroundings, he noticed that the air was thicker, warmer, and more humid than it had been, and it was easier to breathe. "Why is the air wet?" he whispered, not expecting an answer.

"Karen brought a humidifier, she thought that might help. You with me?" Foggy asked.

"No," Matt managed, and was asleep again. This time, his dreams were haunted by the feeling of blood, wet and sticky. His father's face, still and lifeless under his fingertips. He tried to wake himself up, tell himself that it was only a dream, but he couldn't ever quite attain the willpower to wake up. At one point, he thought that he could hear someone shushing him and telling him that everything was okay. That helped, and the dreams became less intense after that, finally allowing him to get some actual rest.

Once, he thought that there was a wet cloth on his forehead, but he was never quite sure about that. Someone might have also been holding his hand and rubbing their thumb over the back of it, but he wasn't sure about that, either. He couldn't remember anything after that.

When next he woke, his throat was dry and sore, but he was breathing okay. Also, he no longer felt too hot or too cold, just a little bit warm. His thoughts were clearer, too, and after a moment he came to the conclusion that his fever must have broken. He didn't hear anyone else's breathing in the room with him, and struggled not to feel a pang of disappointment that Foggy must have left at some point. He tried to sit up, but all of the sudden every part of his body was incredibly sore and he let out a whimper and fell back down.

There was a commotion from the other room. "Not again," someone said, and Matt realized with a sense of relief that it was Foggy as the man came rushing into the room and put a hand on his forehead. "Matt? It's okay, it's just a dream."

"Foggy?" Matt asked. It came out as more of a croak than an actual word, but Foggy seemed to get the message.

"Your fever broke," Foggy said with immense relief. "Finally. Hey, let's get you sitting up." Foggy grasped Matt's shoulders and helped him sit up, propping the pillows up helpfully underneath him. He pressed a glass of water into Matt's hands. "Take a small sip," he instructed, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

The water was the sweetest thing Matt had ever tasted, and he found that after taking a couple of sips, he could talk without feeling like his throat was coated in sand. "Hey."

"Hey," Foggy replied. "How're you doing?"

Matt considered. "I feel awful," he decided.

"I'm not surprised. How's your throat? And breathing? You sound better," Foggy rambled. "I'm sorry I wasn't here right when you woke up, I just really needed to sleep so I was on the couch, I know you asked me not to leave."

"Did I?" Matt asked, surprised. "I shouldn't have done that, sorry. You could have left whenever, I'd have been fine."

"No, it's not like-" Foggy broke off in shock. "You really mean that, don't you?"

"Of course. I never would have asked you to inconvenience yourself if I was thinking clearly."

"Matt! You weren't-I wasn't-Don't ever think that. Okay? It's not an inconvenience, _you're_ not an incon-" Foggy let out a sigh. "I wouldn't have left anyway, Matt. Really. Remember, I said that I was never going to fail in my best friend duties again? Leaving would have been a failure."

"I'm sorry," Matt said again. He wasn't sure why Foggy thought he had failed. He had done more than anyone else had ever done for Matt, since...well, probably forever.

"You don't need to apologize!" Foggy insisted. "Now, let's move on. We can talk about your dependency issues later. You think you could eat something?"

Matt was going to argue about the dependency issues bit, but then he realized that he was starving. "Yeah, I'm hungry, actually," he admitted.

"Awesome." Foggy stood up. "Don't get used to it, but I think breakfast in bed is a good idea today."

"Breakfast?"

"Well, I don't know. It's like, noon."

"Noon?" Matt exclaimed. "Wait, what day is it?"

Foggy groaned. "Right. You...um, you were really out of it for about five days...So, it's, uh, Monday."

"Five days?" Matt echoed, stunned. "But-"

"Dude, you were really sick," Foggy reminded him. "When Claire was over yesterday night, she said you might wake up any time in the next two days, and that you weren't supposed to go back to work for another two-and yes, that means your day job and your night one," Foggy clarified. "I think that the bad guys are just as reluctant to be out in the cold as you should be."

Matt was still thinking about the date. "It's Monday. That means...it's the 21st? Christmas is in four days?"

"Yeah. Don't worry, I got your present before you got sick," Foggy teased lightly. Matt didn't respond, and Foggy's voice lost the joking tone. "I'm going to go get you a mug of soup. That sound good?"

"Yeah," Matt said distractedly. All of the sudden, he felt very, very tired. He was dimly aware of Foggy talking in the other room, but his head felt heavy and he really just wanted to go back to sleep.

"Hey, buddy, wake up," Foggy called. Matt started.

"Wasn't asleep," he muttered.

"Right. You can go back to sleep in a minute, but you've got to get something in your stomach first. Here." Foggy handed him a mug. "It's mostly broth."

Matt took a cautious drink of the hot liquid, sighing with pleasure as it slipped down his sore throat. He probably drank the rest of it a bit too quickly, because after a minute his stomach began to cramp in protest at having food in it after not eating for so long. He handed the mug back to Foggy. "Thank you." There was a clink as Foggy put the mug down on the bedside table. Matt frowned. "Are you using a coaster?" he checked.

Foggy snorted. "Yes, Matt, I'm using a coaster. I'm not going to ruin your ten-dollar-buy-it- at-Walmart bedside table."

"I'll have you know, that cost fifteen dollars," Matt corrected.

"Wow, you really shouldn't get yourself so many nice things, Matthew."

"Shut up," Matt grumbled.

"In your dreams."

Matt closed his eyes. "So if I fall asleep right now, you'll stop talking?"

"Sure." Foggy touched Matt's forehead again. Matt ducked away. "Hey! Stay still."

"I'm trying to fall asleep and you just keep talking."

"Deal with it," Foggy told him unsympathetically. "I think you still have a bit of a fever. Sleep is a good idea."

"Yeah." Matt was almost asleep. He didn't say anything about Foggy's hand still resting on his forehead.

This sleep was far more peaceful and restful than the last one. For a while, Matt even avoided nightmares and had the usual nonsense dreams of a person who didn't roam the streets at night as a vigilante, seeing the worst of humanity and trying to be on the side of the best. He dreamed about a world where chicken soup came out of the shower and people bathed in mugs, but that wasn't what he remembered when he woke up. Unfortunately, that was the nightmares.

" _Get up!" Stick shouted._

" _Murdocks always get back up," his father whispered. But Matt couldn't. He was trapped, lying on the ground, unable to move. Was every bone in his body broken? He tried to tell them that, but he couldn't speak. Where was he? He struggled to sit up, but he was on fire. That must have been why he couldn't move. Surely they understood that? He couldn't get up. Why did they keep asking him to get up?_

" _Get up!"_

" _No! I can't," Matt pleaded. "I can't."_

" _Matty, you need to get up. Help me, Matty!" That was his father again. "You told me to win and now you can't even help me while I'm dying?"_

" _I'm sorry-"_

" _Boohoo," Stick simpered. "Aww, poor little Matty, can't get up to help his dad. Suck it up and move on, kid."_

" _I'm sorry!"_

" _Matty!"_

" _I'm sorry!"_

" _Matt!" That wasn't his father. "Matt, wake up."_

 _Wake up? Was he asleep? Was that why he couldn't move? Stick was still shouting. "You're such a wonderful son, aren't you? Nobody is going to help your dad get up except you, and you can't. You coward, nothing is wrong with you except your fragile will. You're not a warrior. No wonder nobody stays."_

" _No!"_

"Matt!"

Matt dragged himself into wakefulness with a cry, tears falling from his eyes and tracing warm paths down his cheeks. Immediately he became aware that there were hands on his upper arms, holding him steady, and for a second he panicked as he thought that it must have been Stick.

"Stop fighting me, Matt, it's just me, it's just Foggy."

Matt froze and fell limp. He was disoriented and wasn't quite sure what was going on anymore, but something told him that he didn't need to be fighting the person who was holding him down.

"That's better."

 _Oh!_ Foggy. Matt sat up quickly. His surroundings were becoming clearer as he realized that he was in his bed in his apartment, but his mind was still caught up in the dream he had just experienced. He could still hear the echoes of his father's pleading and Stick's cutting remarks about his weakness and a sob escaped him.

"Matt?" Foggy said, concerned.

Taking several shuddering breaths, Matt hunched over and buried his face in his hands. He let out another sob as Foggy started rubbing his back gently.

"You were just having a nightmare," Foggy told him softly.

Matt knew that. And he also knew that if Foggy kept being so...so caring and concerned, he would break down completely. "I know," he whispered. He was trying to keep his voice steady and strong, but that didn't quite work. Foggy lifted his arm, his sleeve rustling softly as he reached out to tilt Matt's face up and press the back of his hand to Matt's forehead.

"Your fever is gone," remarked Foggy encouragingly. As he pulled his hand away, he took the time to brush off one of the tears trailing down Matt's cheek with his thumb. That was what did it. Matt drew his knees up to his chest, crossing his arms against the top of his knees and resting his head on top of his forearms, making himself seem as small as he could, trying to hide before he could start crying anew. He bit his lower lip. "Matt?" repeated Foggy.

"I'm sorry," Matt muttered.

"Sorry? What for? Buddy, you're scaring me. What's wrong?"

"Nothing." That wasn't going to work, was it? "Just a bad dream," Matt corrected. Another wave of helplessness washed over him and he clenched his hand into a fist, his fingernails biting into his palm with a sting of pain that focused his thoughts a little better. Foggy noticed, of course, and carefully made Matt uncurl his hand.

"Wanna talk about it?" he offered.

"No." Matt wanted Foggy to leave him alone, to not see him like this, but Foggy wasn't planning on leaving. A weight settled down next to Matt as Foggy sat down.

"Dude, your bed is super comfortable," Foggy said conversationally.

Matt tried to smile. "I'm not sharing."

"No, definitely not. I'd take up the whole bed, have you seen me?" teased Foggy.

Matt was infinitely grateful for Foggy's casual words. "No, I haven't, actually," he responded. "I'm blind, in case you hadn't noticed."

"Well, then, let me assure you that this is all muscle."

"Uh-huh."

Foggy lost the light, jesting tone then. "Okay, but in all seriousness, Matt."

"Don't try and be serious, it doesn't suit you."

Foggy punched his arm lightly. "Shut up. I've seen you have nightmares before, and this was worse than anything I've seen, at least while you were lucid."

"I'm just tired from being sick," Matt made the excuse. "I'm usually better at...like, hiding it. I let my guard down or something." He knew instantly that his phrasing had been a mistake.

"Better at hiding it? So it's always this bad, you just don't tell me?" Foggy uttered in disbelief. Matt didn't reply, knowing he'd just be digging himself into a deeper hole. "Wow. I think we're going to be having that dependency issues talk another time. Right now, it's time for the 'Matt is still hiding things from Foggy and needs to...not do that anymore' talk."

"I'm fine."

Foggy clicked his fingers. "And there goes another quarter in the lie jar. Seriously, I need to start one of those for you, I'd be rich in a week. So, talk to me. In a not-lying way. Pretend you're in court. Should I make you swear on a Bible? That might work."

" _Foggy!_ "

" _Ma-att!_ " Foggy mimicked. "Look-"

"Right..."

"Listen, I know that you've been through a lot of crap I don't know about, and I'm really not asking you to spill all of that on me. Though I'm here if you ever want to. Just tell me what you were dreaming about."

Matt wasn't quite sure if he was frustrated or touched. Probably a little bit of both. And despite the fact that he really did want to talk to Foggy about it, he found himself saying, once again, "I'm fine."

"Yeah, you're fantastic. Also, you owe me another quarter."

Matt chose not to reply to that. "What time is it?"

"You woke up earlier around noon, it's now about nine p.m. You're avoiding the question." Foggy wasn't going to let this drop. "Talk."

And then Matt was talking. "Do you remember when I said that I was taught how to do all that by an old man named Stick?"

"Yeah, I remember. I thought that was ridiculous and that it was the plot of Kung Fu."

"Well, I know I didn't say very much about him, but...he isn't a very nice person. And he always had something to say to me about how weak or stupid or sentimental I was, and how I always should be able to just get back up, rebound from getting beaten black and blue during training. I was ten."

Foggy sucked in a quick breath through his teeth, startled and slightly horrified. "Go on."

"He found me somehow when I was at an orphanage called St. Agnes after my dad died. And you know that my dad was murdered?"

"Yeah. I remember hearing about it when I was a kid, and...well, you've mentioned it."

Matt's mind was racing as he debated whether or not to tell Foggy the next part. "Did I tell you that I ran past the police officers in the alley and identified him myself?" he asked at last.

All of the sudden, Foggy stopped breathing on the inhale, frozen for a moment. "Oh," he said finally, breathing normally again.

"Well, somehow my dreaming mind decided to shove those events together and paint me a perfect picture of being unable to get up while Stick shouted at me and my dad was calling for help from that alley." Matt had kept himself together for all the telling of the story until now. He couldn't speak anymore around the painful lump in his throat and could feel tears threatening to spill over onto his cheeks. "There," he managed to say. "Happy?"

"I'm feeling a lot of things right now and happy is not one of them." Foggy fell silent for a second. "If I ever meet this Stick, I'm going to beat the crap out of him."

"Good luck with that. I've tried. So have a lot of other people."

"Yeah, well, he's never met a pissed off Foggy Nelson before."

"I'm sure you could do it, but please don't try. I don't want you getting hurt because you think you're...protecting me, or something." Matt could think of almost nothing worse.

"I wouldn't be protecting you, I'd be avenging you."

Matt frowned. "Huh?"

"Listen, man, I'm not a psychologist, but it seems to me like that Stick guy really screwed you up."

"I'm fine!" Matt protested.

"You're having nightmares about him years later and then are proceeding to lie about being okay to your best friend. Believe me when I tell you, Murdock, none of that constitutes 'fine' in my book. So yeah, you owe me another quarter."

"I don't have any change."

"Why don't you just tell me that you're fine one more time? Then it can be a round dollar," Foggy suggested helpfully. Matt almost laughed. Smiling proudly for managing to make Matt a little bit happier, Foggy slung his arm around Matt's shoulders. Somehow, Matt had missed the sound of his arm moving and flinched, startled. "Sorry." Foggy apologized.

"'s okay." Matt was actually feeling a little bit better now. Foggy patted his shoulder affectionately and Matt surprised himself by leaning into the touch.

"Gotcha." Foggy sighed softly. "So, I've been telling Karen that she shouldn't be spending much time here because she might get sick, and she only half listened to me, but she hasn't been over for a couple days."

Suddenly, Matt was worried. "But you've been here, what if you get sick?" he exclaimed, leaning away from his friend.

Patiently, Foggy pulled him back over. "I think I would have shown a few symptoms by now if I was going to catch it," he pointed out.

"But you _could_ have!"

"Well, I didn't. And I didn't want to take you to the hospital and I wasn't going to leave."

"I would have been…"

"If you say 'fine' again, so help me…"

"Fine!" Matt conceded. Then realizing what he had said, he corrected himself. "I mean, whatever. Sure."

"Nice save." Foggy sighed. "Anyway, we're going to take a couple days off for Christmas and like, watch some movies and eat some food and exchange gifts."

"Have fun."

Foggy paused, confused, then realized what Matt meant. "Not just me and Karen, you idiot. You're coming, too. My apartment. Karen's is tiny and you don't have a TV. Don't know if you've had time to do shopping, but there's still three days."

Matt thought about this for a second. "Thanks," he said eventually.

"No problem," Foggy sighed. "Merry Christmas."

* * *

 _Just a bit of delirious Matty for anyone out there who likes that, you sickos. (I am including myself in that category, fyi: sick Matt not totally in his right mind is the cutest thing ever and I cracked myself up writing some of this). And yes, I have finished season two and I know that some of this is not season two compliant (all the stuff with Claire, mainly) but I'm publishing it anyway, I hope that's okay. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed! Reviews are love. Many thanks and much love! ~Clare_

 _P.S. I'm in love with Elektra's cheekbones._


	5. Taking Matters into Their Own Hands

Above everything, Matt could hear the sound of his own heartbeat. It pounded in his ears, a constant reminder that he was alive and that he was different. He couldn't focus on the meeting he was in, could barely remember what it was for, as he let his heartbeat become the only thing he focused on. Everything else was just a blur, an unintelligible babble of sound and smell and the vibration of the subway that passed just underneath the office building, all nearly drowned out by the constant pounding.

Matt was exhausted. He knew that he needed to take a break, but couldn't bring himself to do it. _The city needs me_ , was the excuse he told himself. Deep down, however, he knew that he just didn't care enough about his own wellbeing to take a break. His head hurt, he wasn't as focused as usual, he tripped over things that he never would have if he hadn't been so tired, and he knew that his friends were starting to notice. He had brushed them off, though. He had told Karen that he was coming down with a cold, but he was fine. Foggy was harder to convince, however, and Matt still wasn't sure he had managed to do it.

There was a tap on his shoulder that brought him back to the moment. "Hey, Matt, time to go," Foggy said softly.

"Right, sorry, I was just thinking," Matt apologized, standing up. He put his hand out to shake the hand of the man they had been meeting before realizing that he must have already left because it was just Karen and Foggy left in the room. He tried to cover his mistake by placing his hand awkwardly on the table, but could tell by Foggy's breathing that he was suspicious. "Um, let's go back to the office, and work on this, uh, case," stumbled Matt.

"Uh-huh," Foggy said skeptically, but didn't pry.

Back at the office, Matt tried to read Karen's notes about the meeting to figure out at least what it had been about, but found himself once again not even able to concentrate on the words underneath his fingertips. In fact, without quite knowing that it was happening, he started to fall asleep, quietly slipping from an unfocused but wakeful state to a hyper-focused dreaming one. Everything seemed vividly clear, but the pictures that his senses were painting didn't make much sense.

"Matt. Oh, wow, are you actually asleep?"

"What? No." Matt sat up quickly, mind still fuzzy, but covered his startled state well. "Hi, Karen, what's up?"

Foggy came up behind Karen at the door to Matt's office. "Dude, you're falling asleep at your desk," he observed. "Want to go home and get some rest?"

"No, I wasn't asleep," Matt protested. "I'm alright, I just...zoned out."

"Like you zoned out the entirety of the meeting earlier?" asked Karen. "Don't think we didn't notice."

"Seriously, Matt, it's okay if you want to go home and take a nap."

"I'm fine." Stubbornly, Matt sat up straighter and reached for his computer. He heard his friends turn their heads to shoot exasperated looks at each other, could almost feel the frustrated eye rolls. An unspoken agreement must have taken place without Matt realizing because the next second, Foggy took hold of his upper arm and hauled him to his feet. "Hey!"

"Up you come, Murdock," Foggy said. "You're going home."

"No, I'm not," retorted Matt.

"Yeah, you are," Foggy sighed. He led Matt out the door. "Karen, if I'm not back in a couple hours, come make sure he hasn't murdered me."

"Want backup in the meantime?" Karen offered.

"I'm good, but I will call if I need you," Foggy replied.

"Why do you two always gang up against me?" complained Matt.

"Because you are very stubborn and occasionally self-destructive," explained Foggy. "And-taxi! And so sometimes we have to intervene as your friends." They climbed into the taxi. Well, Foggy did, after forcibly shoving Matt in first. He gave the driver Matt's address. "So I'm making sure that you take care of yourself today."

"I'm fine, Fog."

"You're falling asleep at work. You don't usually do that. Matt, how long has it been since you actually had a full night's sleep?"

Matt was going to lie, but then thought better of it. Foggy may not have been able to read his heartbeat to know when he was lying, but he seemed to be able to tell all the same. "More than a week. Maybe two," he said eventually.

"Damn it, Matt." Foggy fell silent. Matt could feel himself drifting off again, and pinched his arm quickly. The ride to his apartment was not very long, but it felt like ages when he was trying not to fall asleep.

The stairs up to his apartment felt taller than they ever had before. Matt wanted nothing more than to sleep, but he couldn't help feeling bitter that he was basically being told that he needed a nap, like a toddler who had gotten a bit moody. He found himself loosening his tie before he could even open the door, Foggy right behind him. "You can go back to work. I promise I'll rest," Matt urged. He took off his tie and jacket and laid them on the arm of the couch.

"Nah. I think I'll just stay here. Maybe you've actually got something to eat in the fridge for once. That would be a miracle. But then, you're actually listening to me when I'm telling you to take a rest, so I guess anything is possible," Foggy chattered.

Suddenly, Foggy's voice seemed very far away. Matt shook his head slightly to rid his ears of the sudden buzzing, but a wave of dizziness washed over him and the next thing he knew, he was sitting on the couch with a concerned hand resting on his shoulder.

"...att, talk to me. What happened? Matt!" Foggy was saying urgently.

"Sorry," Matt groaned. "I'm just...I haven't slept much recently."

"You literally just blacked out on me for a second. I actually had to catch you. I didn't think that really ever happened except in movies." Foggy felt Matt's forehead.

"I don't have a fever!" Matt protested, swatting the hand away.

"Well, how was I supposed to know?" Foggy muttered. "How have you managed to stay on your feet for this long?"

"Luck, I guess. And lots of coffee." Matt tried to stand up and nearly fell over again as another wave of vertigo hit him.

"Alright, into bed, Matty," Foggy told him. "No more coffee. You, my friend, are going to sleep for as long as you can stay asleep. I don't care if that is until ten o'clock tomorrow morning."

"But I have to-"

"You have to _sleep_ ," insisted Foggy. "Are you hearing me? I will actually sit here and make sure that you don't sneak out the window or however you usually go out to play vigilante."

Matt sniffed. "It's not _playing_ if you actually _are_ one."

"Right." A drawer opened and closed and Foggy shoved pajamas into Matt's hands. "Put these on and get into bed. Then go to sleep."

"You are being very annoying," Matt pointed out.

"I honestly don't give a crap," Foggy retorted. "You are also being very annoying, and your self-destructive tendencies are starting to concern me, as is your inability to accept help or care from anyone else, which I have observed before. But let me tell you, Murdock, if you don't take care of yourself, then your friends are going to get concerned and take matters into their own hands."

Matt had his pajamas on by that point and sat back wearily onto his bed. He really wanted to argue with Foggy, but simply couldn't find the energy. "I'm sure I'll be able to perfectly refute everything that you just said tomorrow," he mumbled. "But right now, not so much."

"Proves my point perfectly." Foggy waited until Matt had flopped backwards and was clearly already half asleep before pulling the sheets up over him.

"Dude…" Matt murmured.

"Shut up."

"Okay." Matt sighed softly. "And thanks."

"Anytime." Foggy crept out of the room and called Karen. "Yeah, he's asleep. No, I swear he isn't making me say that! I'm going to stay here for a while, though, if that's alright. Just to make sure that he doesn't wake up and decide that it's a perfect time to come back to work, or something. You okay at the office? Thanks. See you later."

* * *

 _Matt needs a nap, that's all I'm saying, poor kid. Reviews make my life so much better! Many thanks and much love. ~Clare_


	6. Boom! Or, How Foggy Remembers It

_BOOM_!

The sound of an explosion startled Foggy awake with a rush of adrenaline that sped his heart rate to a quick pounding. Without a transition from sleeping to wakefulness, he scrambled out of bed and looked out his window. He gasped, and then groaned at the sight which greeted him.

Through the darkness of Hell's Kitchen at night, Foggy could see a huge fire about a quarter-mile away. There were already sirens wailing everywhere, the flashing lights of emergency vehicles disturbing the formerly deserted streets.

"Oh, no," Foggy muttered. "No, no, no, no." He turned around and fumbled for his phone on his bedside table, yanking the charging cord out and turning it on with shaking fingers. "Matt, Matt, Matt…" He pushed the button to call Matt, shoving the phone up to his ear as it dialed. "Come on, please pick up…"

"You've reached Matthew Murdock, please leave a message-"

"Damn it!" Foggy swore.

"-after the tone." _Beep._

"Matt, please call me. I need to know you weren't in that explosion. Please." Foggy hung up, slamming his phone back onto the bedside table. Hurriedly, he got dressed, just in case he had to go out and find his friend. Then he called Karen, even though he knew that her apartment was on the opposite side of town from the explosion.

"Hello? Foggy, it's the middle of the…"

"Karen! There was an explosion. Big one. Here. Well, like, close to here," Foggy babbled. "You're okay?"

"What? Foggy, explosion, what?" Karen was still half asleep.

"Something exploded, like a building, about a quarter of a mile from my apartment," Foggy explained, trying to slow down. "Had to make sure you're okay."

Karen sounded more awake now. "I'm fine, Foggy...was anyone hurt? Are _you_ okay?"

"I don't know if anyone was hurt, it happened like a minute ago. I'm fine. Matt won't pick up his phone."

"What?!" she exclaimed. "Oh, my God."

"Maybe he's just asleep, or something," Foggy tried to reason. "But I'm still worried."

"Oh, my God," Karen repeated. "Um...should we go to his place? Make sure he's okay? Was his apartment anywhere near the explosion?"

"No closer than mine. Karen, I'm sure he's fine. I just wanted to make sure you were okay." Foggy took a deep breath. "I'll go check on him. I'm closer. You stay there, the roads will be blocked from your place to his, anyway."

"Okay. Call me when you get there, tell me he's fine."

"I'll do that. Bye." Foggy hung up. He put his head in his hands for a second, then straightened up. His phone was ringing. He recognized the number as Matt's burner phone he used when he was out on the streets at night. "Matt? Matt, are you okay? Talk to-"

"Foggy...Foggy, I don't...know if you're there, but…" Matt coughed. Something was wrong. His voice didn't sound right. Like he was slurring his words, his vowels slightly wrong.

"I'm here, Matt, I'm-"

"But I really need help. I...oh, God. I hope I dialed the right number…"

"Matt, I'm _right here_ -"

"I have no idea...ahhh!" Matt yelped painfully. "Foggy, if you picked up, I…"

"Where are you?!"

"...Something's wrong, Foggy." Was Matt fighting back tears? "Foggy, I...there was an explosion."

"I know, bud, I heard-"

"I was really close to it. Foggy, something happened, I don't know where I am, I...I can't hear anything." Matt's voice caught in his throat. "So I don't know if you picked up. I don't know if I dialed the right number, even. It felt like, the number pad felt right when I pressed it, but I...please, you need to help me."

Foggy's heart was sinking. He could only imagine what Matt was feeling, but didn't say anything. What good would it do?

"I was right outside the building before it exploded, but I was running in some direction, and then the blast happened and I was thrown, and...I have no idea where I am, Foggy, I'm buried under something. Wood and metal, I think. I can smell it. I...I'm just gonna keep talking and hope you can hear me." Foggy was listening to every word, and rushing down the steps from his apartment to the street. "Um...I don't think I'm badly hurt, I just can't hear. This is so...disorienting, Foggy, I can't tell where I am, my surroundings. Uh...Just, if you can come find me. Please, I…" His voice trailed off, but Foggy filled in the blank. _I'm scared._ "Please hurry. I don't want to be found by the police, I'm in the Mask, I can't...I can't be found by the police. Oh, God. Foggy, it hurts. You know how I get overwhelmed sometimes by all the noise? I'd rather have that. You have no idea how lonely this is. Maybe, if you're there, could you say something, really loudly? I might be able to feel the vibrations from the phone speakers, just...just to know you're there."

"I'm here, Matt," Foggy called loudly into the phone. "I'm right here. I'm coming to find you." He wasn't bothering to hail a taxi. That would have actually taken longer than walking. Besides, he was making a stop on the way.

"I think that was you," Matt murmured. "Maybe it was just wishful thinking."

"No, it was me, Matty, I promise." Foggy gripped his phone harder.

"There it was again. Um...so...I'm sorry I can't give any better direction, I can barely figure out which way is up right now. The blast messed with my balance as well as my hearing. Of course, they're really one in the same, because your balance is part of your inner ear…" Matt kept talking quietly until he started coughing again. "Foggy, I think...there's so much dust and ash and smoke in the air, I need to stop talking. Just hurry, please. I'm sorry, I didn't want to drag you out of bed at this hour, I'm sorry...Okay, I'm just going to stop. I won't get off the line. I doubt I could find the end call button anyway. See you." All that was left on the line was Matt's belabored breathing. Well, as long as he was still breathing.

Foggy got what he needed from Matt's apartment, which was the stop he was making. Then, he headed off quickly toward the site of the explosion. There were plenty of sirens still going off, and Foggy was glad that nobody stopped him to ask him where he was going, as he managed to slip past the police officers and other emergency workers.

"Foggy?" Matt said over the phone. "I think I passed out for a few seconds there. Maybe longer."

"Crap." Foggy wished he could tell Matt to shout something, because he was close enough to the building that had exploded to feel his eyes stinging and burning with smoke. There were tons of piles of wood and metal around. Matt could be under any one of them.

"Wait. Foggy? I...I can...you're getting closer. I think. I can't really smell much other than smoke but...that might be you."

"That's really creepy, Murdock," Foggy pointed out, but he was too relieved to really care.

"Um...I'm gonna shout for you. I can't really tell how loud I'm being but the vibrations in my throat are an indication." Matt paused for breath, and Foggy pulled the phone away from his ear, stopping in his tracks to listen more carefully. "FOGGY! FOGGY!" Matt started coughing again, but it was enough. He didn't know that though, so he just kept shouting.

Foggy, meanwhile, had heard him, and was now running toward where the cries were coming from. It was one of the corners of the burning building where the police weren't focusing-of course that _would_ be where Matt had managed to get himself trapped. There was a pile of wood and metal exactly as Matt had described, and underneath it was where his failing voice was coming from.

"Foggy! Please, just…"

Foggy knelt down next to the pile and started shifting the debris.

"Is that you?" Matt called hopefully.

"Yeah, it's me. Where are you, Matt?" he added in a mutter, before his hand, arm buried to the elbow in debris, touched someone's side. "Aha! There you are," he exclaimed at the same time that Matt yelped in surprise.

"Get me out of here!" he said.

"Working on it, bud." Foggy withdrew his hand, to Matt's exclamation of protest. "Hang on!"

"Are you still there?" Matt asked in something close to a whimper.

Foggy sighed and reached back into the pile to pat him reassuringly. "Now let me just focus on getting you out of there," he pleaded. As quickly as he could, Foggy uncovered his limp friend from the debris.

"Ohh, wow, I can breathe again. Ugh. That hurts, there's so much ash in the air." Matt coughed painfully. "Just in case you forgot, I literally have no idea if you're saying anything. My head's a bit...blurry, so I can't even really feel vibrations. I'm in the dark here, Foggy. I need...I don't think that I can…" Suddenly, Matt convulsed, his ragged breathing rasping in his throat.

Panicked, Foggy grabbed Matt's shoulders and sat him up. "Matt? Matt, it's okay, I'm here now. Matt!"

Matt was clutching his stomach, choking and coughing. "Foggy, I can't...breathe…"

"Whoa, whoa, okay." Foggy tried to keep a clear head. "I need to get you away from all of this smoke." He wrapped his arm around Matt's waist, and Matt tried to just lean into him, not understanding what Foggy was trying to do. "No, up," Foggy said patiently, standing up and supporting most of Matt's weight doing so. Matt swayed unsteadily and Foggy shrugged Matt's arm over his shoulder to give him better support. He didn't seem to want to move-Foggy expected that was because he couldn't tell where he was standing.

"Foggy, what-" His voice was raspy, giving out. "Foggy-"

"C'mon, buddy. One foot in front of the other, I won't let you fall or bump into anything," pleaded Foggy helplessly. He tugged on Matt's waist to get him moving, causing him to wince with pain. "Okay, so you are hurt," muttered Foggy. "Great, we can fix that, if I can just get you to start walking. You know you're really heavy, right?" But Matt was slowly sinking to the ground, despite Foggy's best efforts to keep him upright. Matt opened his mouth as if he was trying to say something, but all that came out was a slight cough. "Are you kidding me? Oh, no…"

Matt buried his face in his hands, groaning.

"Right."

With a lot of difficulty, Foggy got Matt standing again. Avoiding the policemen, Foggy took his friend in a wide circle around the building, staying in the shadows. Matt was still wearing his Daredevil clothes, of course, although Foggy did take the mask off him. Matt kept stumbling along, leaning heavily on Foggy and trusting him to lead. He didn't respond to anything, made no indication that he was in pain or needed a rest. Foggy wondered if he was just that exhausted, that he didn't have any energy left to stop and start again, or if he was even really fully conscious. He didn't think so.

It was with relief that Foggy finally got Matt to the base of his apartment building. He had decided to bring Matt to his own place rather than to Foggy's because Matt knew his way around there better. Stairs were difficult, but they managed somehow, and Foggy found the keys in his pocket, bringing Matt inside. Matt's breathing had evened out once he was away from the smoke, but he still hadn't said anything. Foggy let him collapse onto the couch and curl up in the corner while Foggy got him a glass of water, which he drank gratefully before slumping over and coughing.

"Claire's still out of town, isn't she?" Foggy realized. "Awesome. Just great. And what exactly am I supposed to tell Karen tomorrow when you can't show up to work? 'Oh, yeah, Matt can't come in today because-' Crap! Karen!" Foggy scrambled for his phone. "Karen! Hi."

"Did you find Matt? Is he okay? It's been ages, Foggy-"

"I'm sorry, I know. He...he was near the explosion, but he'll be okay. It kinda messed up his hearing and balance, though, so I'm not sure he'll make it to work tomorrow." Foggy bit his lip. He really hated lying to Karen, although none of that was technically a lie. Still, it didn't feel right at all. "But he'll be fine."

"Thank God...His hearing and balance? Oh, wow, that must really suck."

"Yeah." Foggy glanced over at Matt on the couch. "He's currently flopped on his couch looking more miserable than I've ever seen him. Oh, plus, the smoke from the explosion screwed with his voice and he can barely talk."

Karen sounded pitying and also a little accusing. "Well, what are you talking to me for? Go take care of your friend, Nelson."

"Okay, okay," he answered, looking back over at Matt, whose face had screwed up like he was either concentrating really hard or forcing back tears. "Yeah...you're right. See you tomorrow, Karen."

"It is tomorrow," Karen pointed out. "By the way, what was Matt doing out this late?"

Foggy blinked quickly. "Um...taking a walk, I think. Probably couldn't sleep. Bye!" He shoved his phone into his pocket and went over to Matt, sitting down on the couch next to him.

Matt let out a cough. "The water...helped," he whispered hoarsely. "Thanks. And I'm a bit less disoriented than I was...if I don't move at all. There might be a tiny bit of hearing coming back already. I doubt any damage was permanent. I really, really hate this, though."

Clumsily, Foggy patted his shoulder. "Hearing's coming back, that's good."

Matt tilted his head. "Did you just say something?"

Foggy had to laugh. "Nothing at all, Matt."

"Okay, you definitely said something there, but I have absolutely no idea what." Matt yawned suddenly, and it seemed to throw him off balance because he kind of swayed a bit and tilted over to the side. Foggy caught him gently. "Thanks," Matt muttered.

"No problem." Foggy held on in case he was going to fall over again, then carefully let him lean back against the arm of the couch. "Hey, I'm going to get you some non-superhero outfit clothes. And then you can go to sleep. Okay?"

Again, Matt tilted his head. "That was also something you said. Still don't know what. I don't suppose you could maybe get me something to wear so I can change out of this? It's a bit strange wearing it in my apartment. Also, I'm pretty sure that I'd fall over if I tried to stand up."

Already standing up, Foggy said, "Sure. Also I'm going to take this opportunity to say just about everything I've ever wanted to say when you can't hear me."

"I assume that was you saying that you'd be happy to go get me some clothes, so thank you." Matt even kind of smiled then.

"Uh-huh, Murdock. You know, that costume is really a bit strange. The horns are wayyy over the top. You look like an overgrown kid in a Halloween costume."

"Pajamas are fine. Top drawer, left," called Matt.

"Are your PJs armored, too?" asked Foggy interestedly. He fumbled around in the dark for the dresser. He _really_ needed to get Matt a lamp for this room, just for when he was over. The entire apartment needed some work, actually. Foggy found a pair of very soft, flannel pajamas and brought them out to Matt, who had not answered him. His head was rolling to the side slightly and he let out a soft groan. Suddenly concerned, Foggy put his hand to the back of Matt's neck. "Are you al-"

"Everything just started spinning again," whined Matt.

"Okay. Well. Stay still for a minute, I've got you. I promise the room isn't actually spinning." Foggy sat down, careful not to move the couch too much, but Matt got startled and tried to sit up straight, ending up toppling over onto Foggy's shoulder. "Alright, Matty, just stay still and you wouldn't have that problem," he chided. "I did bring you some pajamas."

"Uhhhhhh." Matt didn't move for another couple of minutes, then he took a deep breath. "Okay. I think I could stand up now." Holding onto Foggy, he managed to do that, and took several steps until Foggy indicated that he should sit down. He recognized the surface as his bed.

Foggy gave him the pajamas and Matt began struggling out of his Daredevil clothes. There were some pretty terrific purple and red bruises on his chest and sides, and Foggy gasped softly at the sight of them. "Owwww," breathed Matt quietly as he slipped the PJ shirt over his head.

"You were right, that is...a lot of bruising," allowed Foggy. "My God, Matty."

"Was that an exclamation of surprise at how terrible I look or how great my muscles are?" teased Matt.

Foggy rolled his eyes, shoving the pajama pants into Matt's hands. "I kind of prefer it when you can actually hear what I'm saying."

"Huh?" Matt had managed to get his pajama pants on without falling over somehow. "You gotta speak up, Foggy."

"Go to sleep," Foggy told him.

"It's been a nice chat, but I really need to go to sleep," Matt apologized. "Thanks for coming to find me. Go home, get some rest. I'll see you in the morning."

"Like I'm gonna leave you by yourself when you can't navigate around your apartment correctly and can barely stand up," Foggy scoffed. "I'll be on the couch. Shout if you need anything."

Matt's eyes were drifting shut as he slumped backwards onto the bed. "Goodnight," he murmured. He didn't seem like he was going to pull the covers up, so Foggy did that for him. "Seriously, go home," he mumbled.

"Not gonna happen." Foggy folded up the Daredevil suit and put it away carefully in the box in Matt's closet, adding the Mask which was still in his pocket. Then he went back over to the bed and touched Matt's hair while saying, "Goodnight. Hopefully, you're okay in the morning."

"Whatever you say." Matt was almost asleep, so Foggy went out to the couch and sat down, yawning. He was asleep in minutes.

* * *

 _I'm so sorry, Matt. Also, if anyone's interested, I wrote this chapter twice. Once from Foggy's perspective and once from Matt's. If anyone wants to read Matt's, I'll publish it as the next chapter! If that's not something anyone wants, I'll just move on to a different story. Reviews make my day, and everyone who's reviewed so far has been so incredibly sweet and supportive and my fears about publishing this story have shrunk considerably! Many thanks and much love! ~Clare_


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